<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>You don't need to write for me to love you by HurricaneSystem</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279680">You don't need to write for me to love you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneSystem/pseuds/HurricaneSystem'>HurricaneSystem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:35:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>973</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneSystem/pseuds/HurricaneSystem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>this is inspired by the story return to sender but I couldn't find it. Go read it, it is much better than mine and, you know, original.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You don't need to write for me to love you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“1800</p><p>Angel, today you said to me that you could feel yourself fall in love with your books, and in a selfish attempt to replicate, I hope that if I could become a book you should love me. This world of words in yours, and I feel lost in the waves of writing. You, my friend, are very clever to fall in love with a medium that I can not give you. My treacherous heart begs me to try, so I will, by pouring my mind out through ink and hoping I am not too much of a fool. But alas I am a fool for you my angel, you say the word and I would give you everything.”</p><p>Aziraphale stood looking through the pages of writings that he had suddenly found in an envelope, with no apparent sender. It made him worry slightly for the security of his shop, but he quickly pushed that away in favor of the heartfelt words. The writer was obviously not a professional one, and he once again wondered why he had them. It sounded very gay, which would explain why the writer sounded so guilty for his love. Humans were so cruel, and Aziraphale noted to donate to a queer organization when he got the chance. He looked back at the letters, of which there appeared to be hundreds, and the few that had been separated from the rest, of which this letter had been taken from. Even that pile though was a considerable size, and Aziraphale expected he had his plan for the day right here. He decided to take a seat, as he could not see this ending overly quickly. </p><p>“ I hope you know that, though I know you don't, as you never call on me. Perhaps I shall slip this into your coat pocket so you shall know you can call. Then again, I am much too much of a coward to do that. You, love, make me weak with fear. Not of you, but of the power I have let you have over me. It was a foolish decision on my part to let you into my heart. Foolish, and possibly deadly if the forces above or below catch us. I can sometimes feel myself wishing I had not fallen so I could be around you without fear. They shall however never find my love for you if I can help it. For I have been hiding my fascination since the garden. So you, my love, shall never have to see the sick love in my rotten heart.”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled sadly at the letter. It was not signed, only ending with, “forever yours”, and something furiously scribbled out at the bottom. Taking out the next letter, Aziraphale nicely folded the first one and put it in an envelope. Part of him wanted to share the letter with him. He knew Crowley wanted nothing to do with romance or writing but he hoped Crowley could at least appreciate it, especially now with Hell no longer breathing down his neck, causing panicked rejection of anything kind. </p><p>“1803</p><p>Oh angel you do not know what you do to me. Do you not understand how your pleased smile makes me want to achieve it again and again? Do you perhaps know this and use it against me to make me do good? If so, do it more so I can see your smile as you manipulate my foul actions to ones of righteousness. You make me wish god would simply destroy me, instead of punishing me with loving you. They say love and hate are brothers, so I guess your loving brothers are justified in hating me. My darling if only we were as close as we are in my dreams, the things I could show you to make you stay, it would be wonderful.”</p><p>“1824</p><p>My love, you gave me a book this afternoon, you had such a grin. Even though I don't like Hamlet, I am still keeping it. Angel, I don't think you understand what you do to me. I am yours such that I would keep a gift you gave out of a joke. The only reason I stay is because of you. I hope I never anger you enough to leave me.”</p><p>“1862</p><p>I’m sorry”</p><p>Under that there was quite a few sentences, seemingly recently scratched out, that upon further inspection made Aziraphale’s heart break. The self deprecating words made Aziraphale burst into tears. He kept reading.</p><p>“--------------  please to not blame yourself for my actions, I love you my angel.”</p><p>What Aziraphale remembered most about 1862 was fighting with Crowley. He didn't see him for years after that, fifty four of them to be exact. He felt a nagging feeling in the back of his neck. This sounded quite a bit like a final goodbye, he expected that the word covered was the name of his love. He miracled away the ink over the completely blocked out word and froze.</p><p>“Crowley? Hello, I was just wondering if you would want to come over for a cup of tea, I found a new kind and you really must try it.” Not a complete lie, but a big misdirection. “Oh good, I’ll see you in ten.” Aziraphale tidied a bit and made tea for the both of them, using a quick miracle to make both cups just the right temperature.<br/>
Crowley sipped his tea, and Aziraphale watched.<br/>
“Crowley…” Crowley looked up at him.  “You didn't need to write for me to love you” Crowley flushed as red as his hair. Aziraphale reached over to take his hand and Crowley stared at their intertwined fingers in awe.<br/>
“I love you Crowley” Crowley smiled and seemed to teleport onto Aziraphale’s lap. He didn't actually, but it was very fast. Aziraphale laughed and pulled him close.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>